


Some Nightmares Are Real

by realityisoverrated



Series: Infinite Love [193]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Murder, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Smoaking billionaires, Toliver, flommy, olicity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 18:49:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17606933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/realityisoverrated/pseuds/realityisoverrated
Summary: Oliver wakes from a nightmare with his hands wrapped around Tommy's throat. Oliver should've told the truth about what had happened on the Gambit.





	Some Nightmares Are Real

**Author's Note:**

> This story depicts a polyamorous relationship between one woman and two men. If this is not something you are interested in, please stop and go no further.
> 
> This installment is a birthday present for the Keeper of the Prompts, Dani. Thank you for everything you do! I appreciate our friendship. Happy Birthday!
> 
> This installment is 30/193. The chronological list for the series, with hyperlinks, can be found at  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/11051019

Artwork by Lademonessa

 

Tommy was certain it was the thunder that had pulled him from sleep, not his nightmare of Oliver drowning. The nightmare was familiar and had terrorized Tommy for years. Even after Oliver returned home, Tommy would see him drown on a near nightly basis. It wasn’t until Laurel died that Tommy’s psyche began switching things up. Some nights it was Laurel dying in front of his eyes and others it was Oliver. On really bad nights, like tonight, he watched them both die.

Tommy willed himself to climb from the warm bed where he was surrounded by a deliciously naked Oliver and Felicity. Thunder and lightning were triggers for Oliver’s own nightmares and he wanted to close the curtains before the flashing light disturbed Oliver’s sleep. He reluctantly sat up, carefully removing Felicity’s arm from where it was draped across his waist.

Oliver twitched and a guttural cry parted his lips. His back bowed from the bed and he let out a howl of grief that made tears well in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy recognized the sound, it was the one his own dad had made the night the police came to the house to tell them his mom had been murdered. With Oliver, the list of possible people dying in his nightmares seemed endless.

Oliver was most dangerous when he was trapped between sleep and wakefulness. His body reacted before his brain could catch up and Oliver had given Tommy and Felicity explicit instructions to never touch him during a nightmare. “Ollie,” Tommy said, careful to keep his distance. “Wake up. You’re having a bad dream.”

Oliver began to thrash wildly. Tommy had to lean back to avoid getting hit by Oliver’s flailing limbs. “Ollie,” he said louder, trying to cut through the horror of his boyfriend’s dreams. Another cry of pain made Tommy disregard Oliver’s number one rule. Without thought, he reached for Oliver, his hand brushing over Oliver’s clammy skin. “Oliver.”

“What’s wrong?” Felicity asked sleepily.

Tommy turned his attention from Oliver, but his hand remained pressed to Oliver’s flesh. “He’s having a nightmare.”

Before he could register what was happening, Tommy was pressed into the mattress. Oliver’s hands were around Tommy’s throat with his knee crushing his chest.

Tommy pushed against Oliver’s arms, but it was like fighting against a marble statue - there wasn’t any yielding of flesh. Oliver’s eyes were open, but he was unseeing. The cold stare, so much like his father’s, was one Oliver would never have for Tommy. Oliver’s body was there, but his mind was trapped somewhere else.

“Oliver,” Felicity shouted, pulling on his nearest arm. “Let him go. It’s Tommy. You’re hurting Tommy.”

Oliver lifted one hand from Tommy’s throat to push Felicity away. She landed next to Tommy on the bed. Tommy used the precious seconds Oliver’s hand was gone to fill his lungs.

Felicity rolled from the bed, but Tommy was too focused on Oliver to track where she went. He clawed at Oliver’s hands as he tried to buck his hips to shift Oliver from his chest. Cold water splashed onto Tommy and Oliver. Oliver’s hands immediately loosened from around Tommy’s throat. Eyes widening with recognition, Oliver scrambled away from Tommy and ended up on the floor.

Ignoring Oliver, Felicity climbed back onto the bed, her hands running over Tommy’s neck and chest. “You’re okay,” she said quietly as she tried to help him sit up.

Tommy gasped for breath, his eyes fixed on a cowering Oliver. He held out his hand. “I’m all right,” he rasped.

Thunder rattled the windows and a flash of lightning lit up Tommy’s bedroom. Oliver squeezed his eyes shut.

“Ollie,” Tommy said, climbing from the bed. His heart was hammering in his chest and he felt like he’d just run a marathon, but his only concern was for Oliver. “You’re safe.”

Oliver hung his head. “You’re not.”

Tommy forced himself to smile. “I’m okay. No harm done.”

“You we’re having a nightmare,” Felicity said.

“Doesn’t matter. He still would’ve been just as dead,” Oliver said, his voice detached.

“You were asleep. I shouldn’t have touched you,” Tommy said. “I forgot the rule.”

“You shouldn’t have to be afraid to share a bed with me,” Oliver said, his voice cracking.

“Hey.” Tommy knelt by Oliver’s side, carefully keeping enough space between them. “I’m not afraid of you. Neither of us are. You would never hurt us on purpose.”

Oliver reached a shaking hand and traced his fingers over Tommy’s throat. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Ollie,” Tommy said, panic crawling up his spine. They’d been careless of each other’s hearts when they were young, allowing their fears to keep them apart. Now, he feared something new. They’d finally admitted the truth about their feelings and were moving forward. Tommy didn’t think he could survive losing Oliver again - not now that he knew what it was like to finally be with him the way he’d always wanted. Oliver’s night terrors could potentially give him the excuse he needed to pull away and leave Tommy for good. “It’s not the same thing.”

“Do you want to talk about your nightmare?” Felicity asked, slipping into Oliver’s discarded t-shirt. She sat down next to him and took his hand. “It might help if you talk about it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Oliver said, his gaze shifting to the window.

“Of course it matters. Was it the Gambit?” Felicity said, pulling the blanket from the bed. She cocooned the three of them together beneath the blanket.

Oliver shrugged. “Partly. It was jumbled - different memories put together.” He rose to his feet and picked up his jeans.

“Where are you going?” Felicity asked, tugging the jeans from his hands.

“To the foundry. You should both go back to sleep,” Oliver said, holding his hand out for his jeans. “I won’t be able to go back to sleep.”

“Who did you watch die?” Tommy asked. At Oliver’s cocked eyebrow, he continued, “I recognize the signs.”

Oliver sighed. “It was my dad.”

Tommy’s heart ached for the sorrow on Oliver’s face. His own dreams of watching Oliver drown were fueled by his imagination, but Oliver had been present when Robert had drowned. Oliver had been in the churning sea, calling out for survivors, and ultimately left alone to drift for days until his raft made it to Lian Yu. The sea was unforgiving at the best of times. During a storm, with a sinking boat, it was a miracle Oliver had survived. He rose from the floor, needing Oliver to look into his eyes when he said, “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have saved him. It happened too fast.”

Oliver scoffed. “He’s dead because of me. He died because of me.”

Tommy’s fingers pressed into Oliver’s hips. “You didn’t plant the bomb on the boat. He’s dead because of my father.”

Angry tears fell from Oliver’s eyes. “You’re wrong. He died to save my life.” He dropped his forehead to Tommy’s, his lips claiming his boyfriend’s in a desperate kiss. When they broke apart, Oliver said, “You’ll hate me. You’ll hate him.”

“Not possible,” Tommy said. There was nothing Oliver could tell him that would make him love him less, but whatever it was, Oliver believed it would. Terrified that Oliver was about to slip through his fingers, Tommy held on to him tighter. If Oliver was going to drop a bomb on their relationship and then run away, Tommy wanted him to know that he wasn’t going to let go without a fight.

“When the Gambit sank, I was below deck – in my cabin with Sara. We were in my bunk, fooling around and the boat lurched and then pitched. Suddenly the cabin was filling with water and Sara was pulled out of my hands,” Oliver clutched Tommy’s sides, his fingers pressing into his ribs. “Before I could even think, I was sucked out of the boat and found myself on the surface of the water. I kept calling for her, but she didn’t answer. Out of nowhere, a life raft appeared with dad,” Oliver looked up at Tommy. “He pulled me on board the raft with help from his bodyguard – Dave Hackett.”

Tommy began to feel dizzy as Oliver’s words began to register. Robert had made it to the lifeboat. Robert hadn’t died on the Gambit. Hope momentarily flared in Tommy’s chest. Maybe Robert had gotten separated from Oliver like Sara had. His hope was extinguished when he looked into Oliver’s eyes. There wouldn’t be a third miracle for them. Tommy didn’t want to hear what came next. He released his grasp on Oliver and backed away from the truth.

“We were in the raft for about a week, maybe two. It was hard to keep track of the days. Our supplies were running low. The storm had knocked one of the survival crates overboard and we were running out of water and rations.”

There were several moments in Tommy’s life that changed everything – the death of his mom – the first time his dad hit him – the first time Ollie kissed him - the sinking of the Gambit – meeting Felicity. He knew that whatever Oliver said next would change everything again. Tears fell from Felicity’s eyes as she moved closer to Tommy than Oliver. Her approach terrified him more than the desperate look in Oliver’s eyes. Felicity was moving to comfort him, not Oliver. Felicity already knew what Oliver was going to say. Once again, Tommy was on the outside looking in as the floor dropped out from beneath him. Tommy’s eyes locked on Oliver and he began to shake.

Oliver took a deep breath to give Tommy one last moment with the lie he’d told his family to spare them the pain of the truth. “Dad gave me his notebook. He told me he wasn’t the man I thought he was. He told me to right his wrongs. He shot Hackett. He told me to survive. He shot himself in the head.”

The room went silent and Tommy’s vision narrowed. All he could hear was the sound of his blood rushing through his ears. His legs lost the ability to keep him standing. Oliver’s arms wrapped around him, but Tommy’s knees buckled, wrenching himself free of Oliver’s grasp. Murder. Suicide. It wasn’t possible. The only thing that made sense was that he was still dreaming – caught in his own nightmare. Tommy squeezed his eyes shut. “This isn’t real.”

Oliver carded his fingers through Tommy’s hair and gave a sharp tug. Tommy opened his eyes and immediately regretted it. The pain in Oliver’s eyes was too much. “You’re not dreaming,” Oliver said. “I wish it was only a nightmare.”

Pain tore through Tommy’s chest. Oliver’s words ripped off the scab of Tommy’s grief and it was like learning of Robert’s death again for the first time. “No,” he let out a strangled cry of agony. The heels of his hands pressed against his eyes and he hunched over, gut wrenching sobs tearing through him. Tommy had mourned Robert. He’d stood in front of an empty coffin and prayed for the man who’d been more of a father than his own. Robert had survived the Gambit only to choose to end his own life. He could’ve come home to all of them, instead, Oliver had been forced to watch his dad take his own life. Learning that Robert had taken his own life to save Oliver was almost too much to bear.

Oliver pulled Tommy into his arms. “I’m so sorry, buddy. It happened so fast, I didn’t know what he was doing until it was too late,” Oliver said as they rocked in one another’s arms. “I know how much you love him. He loved you too.”

“Ollie,” Tommy sobbed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated over and over. He wished he could take Oliver’s pain away or remove the memory so he would never have to remember his dad’s violent death. They held each other until Tommy’s shaking subsided. He lifted his head and wiped his red eyes. Tommy pushed against Oliver. “You told me he drowned. You told me everyone drowned. Why?”

Oliver grimaced. Tommy pressed his lips to Oliver’s to stop him from answering his stupid question. He knew why Oliver hadn’t told them the truth. How could Oliver tell them Robert had survived only to make a terrible choice? Oliver hadn’t wanted their pity, but he also hadn’t wanted to be the reason Robert hadn’t come home to them. In this instance, the truth brought them nothing but heartache. “I thought it would be better - easier - for all of you to believe he drowned. I didn’t want to cause mom, Thea, or you any more pain about his death than you already had. I thought that if I told you he drowned,” he sighed, “it would be -”

“Simpler,” Tommy finished Oliver’s sentence.

“Yes,” Oliver ran his hand over Tommy’s head, “you’d already suffered enough.”

Felicity wrapped her arms around them. Oliver leaned into her embrace and began to cry. Tommy couldn’t join Oliver in his grief. His pain had transformed into anger.

It had been a relief to tell Tommy the truth. Oliver had been carrying the guilt of this secret for too many years. Tommy was taking the news better than Oliver had thought. As hard as it was to admit that his dad had murdered someone, it was his dad’s suicide that had the potential to destroy Tommy’s equilibrium. Oliver felt Tommy go still in his arms. He pulled back and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Tommy was frozen in their arms, his eyes wide and vacant.

“Tommy?” Oliver asked with concern when his boyfriend remained motionless. “Can you hear me?”

As if woken from a trance, Tommy was suddenly in motion. He grabbed his jeans from the floor and pulled them on, followed by his t-shirt. He left the room without a word.

Oliver and Felicity scrambled from the bed and followed him to the living room where Tommy was shoving his feet into a pair of shoes. He grabbed his leather jacket from the back of the sofa, pulling his car keys from its pocket.

“Where are you going?” Felicity asked with alarm.

Tommy brushed past her and opened the front door.

“There’s a storm,” Felicity said with worry.

“I’ll come with you,” Oliver said, looking for where he’d left his shoes.

“I just need some air,” Tommy said woodenly. “I’ll be right back.”

“He’s dead,” Oliver said, recognizing Tommy’s state of mind. He’d known him for too long not to recognize when Malcolm was tearing Tommy apart. “My dad is dead. Your dad is long gone. There’s nothing you can do to bring him back.”

Tommy didn’t react, he just closed the door behind him.

Oliver ran back to Tommy’s room and quickly got dressed. He pointed to the dresser, “Get dressed.”

“Oliver, wait,” Felicity said, her hand circling his wrist, “When Diggle told me, I didn’t really know you or understand. I didn’t say it then, but I’m saying it now. I’m sorry about your dad. I’m sorry that you’ve been carrying this burden by yourself.”

His breath hitched in his chest. Oliver had carried the secret of his father’s death for so many years, it felt strange to be comforted for the truth. “Thank you, but we have to find him before he does something stupid.”

“He needs a few minutes – he’ll be right back,” Felicity said.

Oliver wished he could believe that, but there were things he knew about Tommy that Felicity didn’t – things Tommy would never want her to know. Having experienced what Tommy was capable of, Oliver refused to sit around and hope that Tommy came home. “We need to find him. He’s in pain.”

“It’s the middle of the night – nothing is open,” Felicity said, pulling on yoga pants. “Where would he go if he’s sad? The water? Thea’s?”

“He’s not sad – he’s angry,” Oliver said. If there was one thing Oliver knew about Tommy was that his anger made him dangerous – not to others, but to himself. “I think I know where he’s going.” He just prayed that he was right.

   


Tommy had walked out his front door with no other destination in mind than, not here. The engine of his Porsche roared to life. He navigated the parking structure of his apartment building faster than was safe, but he felt like he was suffocating and needed to get out from below ground. When his dad had torched the Porsche Robert had given him for his sixteenth birthday, Tommy had believed replacing it with another Porsche would soothe the pain of the loss. The new car drove like a dream, but Tommy missed the well-worn leather of the original. Every time he’d slipped behind the wheel of the car Robert had given him it had felt like an act of defiance and of coming home. He’d loved that car because when Robert had given it to him it had meant that he mattered. It was probably why his dad had torched it.

The city streets were empty, and Tommy made it to the highway in less than five minutes. He shifted into fifth and roared down the highway, uncaring of how fast he was going or how wet the roads were. His foot was heavy on the accelerator as he pushed the car over one hundred miles per hour. When he’d first purchased the new vehicle, he and Oliver had taken her to the track where she’d gone as fast as one hundred and seventy miles per hour. After the track, they’d gone to Morello’s and toasted to Robert. Tears filled Tommy’s eyes, but fury burned them away. He was running, but he wasn’t sure where to. All he knew was that he needed to get away from Oliver and the ugly truth. Robert had survived. Robert had killed someone and then taken his own life in front of Oliver. Robert wasn’t a murderer, Malcolm had made him one. How could Tommy ask Oliver to love him? Instead of being able to bring comfort to the man he loved, he was a constant reminder of Malcolm and everything that had been stolen from the Queens.

Tommy came to a stop in front of the large wrought iron gates that he’d always speculated were a replica of those that stood guard in hell. Every time he’d passed through them when he was younger, he’d prayed no harm would come to him. He’d never known when the devil would be home. Tonight, he knew the devil was elsewhere and only ghosts would be waiting for him. He punched the code into the small box outside his window. The code wasn’t his mom’s birthday, or his parents’ anniversary, but the date his dad made his first million. The gates swung open and Tommy raced through.

He parked the car in the large circular drive and made his way towards the sticky window in the dining room. The rain was cold, and water was slipping between the neck of his jacket and down his back. Tommy gave no thought to the cold or his discomfort as his feet sank in the mud. He hit the heel of his hand against the window and the lock popped. He eased the window open and slipped inside the now empty room. Most of the art and furnishings had been liquidated after the Undertaking. Some of the furniture had been identified as belonging to his mom and had been considered part of his trust. He’d removed very little from the mansion. His apartment wasn’t large, and he’d only taken the things he couldn’t bear to be parted from.

Tommy wasn’t looking for a walk down memory lane as he moved effortlessly through the house in the dark. He made his way to his dad’s study. It was a room that Tommy had feared as a child and had always given a wide berth whenever his dad was home. It was the room in which Tommy had received most of his beatings.

He threw open the double doors, used the flashlight feature on his cell to illuminate the darkness, and stepped inside the mostly empty room. The room had a view of the Starling skyline and the building that once housed Merlyn Global. It had been used to intimidate businessmen and children alike. Mass murder had been plotted within its walls. His dad had probably ordered Robert’s death sitting in the spot where Tommy stood. The large oval desk with intricate inlay was long gone, but the built-in shelves and cabinets still remained. Malcolm’s diplomas, awards, and pictures with politicians and celebrities were on display as if awaiting his return. Malcolm used to point to the men in the photographs and tell Tommy that no one would believe him if he ever told anyone about his abuse. His dad was powerful and important, and his weak son was not. A series of photographs over the mantle made bile rise in Tommy’s throat.

A youthful Tommy’s dull and wary eyes looked out at him from the frames. In every picture he stood stiffly in formalwear at his father’s side, looking presentable and serious. There weren’t any candid shots of Tommy growing up. There wasn’t any evidence of his love for baseball or musical theater. There weren’t pictures of him at any of his graduations or birthday parties. Malcolm had never known or understood who Tommy was. All he ever seemed to care about was how Tommy’s very existence was a negative reflection on him.

Tommy picked up the poker from the stand next to the fireplace. He swung it loosely like a baseball bat in circles with his wrist. He allowed himself to get accustomed to its weight as he slowly moved around the room. A photo of Malcolm with his arm around Robert’s shoulders filled Tommy with rage. Robert had sacrificed himself to save Oliver. He had murdered someone and taken his own life so that Oliver would come home to Moira, Thea and to Tommy. Tommy’s happiness had been bought and paid for with Robert’s life. It wasn’t fair. Malcolm had never sacrificed a thing for anyone – especially not for Tommy.

Without thought, Tommy swung the poker at his father’s smiling face. The glass shelf exploded around him. He screamed profanities as he demolished the glass shelves holding his father’s accomplishments and the pictures of the powerful men who had protected Malcolm. He swept the poker across the mantle, sending his own photos sailing across the room. The picture frames shattered as they hit the opposite wall. Tommy staggered to the center of the room and dropped the poker to the floor. Exhausted, he stumbled to his knees as sobs tore through his chest.

 

When Oliver and Felicity got to the top of Merlyn driveway, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw Tommy’s silver Porsche in the beam of his headlights. Tommy’s Malcolm fueled rage could only be vented at the places Tommy still associated with his father - Merlyn Global’s former headquarters or Merlyn Manor. Oliver had taken a chance and picked Tommy’s childhood house of horrors.

Oliver took Felicity’s hand and led her around the side of the house, and the dining room window he’d sneaked through more times than he could remember.

“Oliver,” Felicity said with alarm when he opened the window and they could hear Tommy’s shouts and shattering glass.

He guided her through the window and they took off in a run following Tommy’s muddy footprints through the deserted house towards Malcom’s study. An agonized cry of distress greeted them as they made it to the room. Oliver’s eyes quickly scanned the dark room, looking for threats.

Tommy was on his knees in the center of the room, surrounded by glass, a fireplace poker beside him. The only threat in the room was the grief and anger Tommy carried with him.

“Stay here,” Oliver whispered to Felicity when she went to follow him into the room. There was too much broken glass and Oliver didn’t want her slipping and getting hurt.

Oliver knelt in front of Tommy, his hands resting on his boyfriend’s legs. Tommy leaned forward, resting his head against Oliver’s chest. “It’s okay,” Oliver said, wrapping his arms around Tommy.

Tommy’s ice-cold fingers slipped beneath Oliver’s jacket and dug into the flesh of his back. He shook his head against Oliver’s chest as he cried.

They held each other until Tommy’s crying subsided. “I’m sorry, Ollie.”

“I know you are,” Oliver said.

“If my dad had loved me, your dad would still be alive,” Tommy said.

“This isn’t your fault,” Oliver said firmly. “You aren’t responsible for Malcolm’s choices.”

“Then, why are you responsible for Robert’s?” Tommy asked.

“I don’t wear the hood because I think I’m responsible for the choices my dad made. I wear it because he failed this city and he asked me to make amends.” His thumbs wiped the tears from Tommy’s cheeks. “We’re going to do better than our fathers.”

Tommy wiped his eyes, smearing blood along his cheek. “I don’t see the difference.”

If Oliver was being honest, he didn’t either. His father had complicit in the murder of five hundred people. Oliver wasn’t responsible for those deaths, but he would be responsible if he didn’t do everything in his power to make up for the past sins of his parents. As much as he hated to see Tommy in pain and blaming himself for Malcolm’s choices, he understood why Tommy believed he was responsible for his dad too.

Glass crunched beneath Felicity’s feet as she retrieved Tommy’s cell from the far corner of the office. She returned to their sides and placed her hands on top of their heads. “Let’s go home.”

 

Tommy sat on the bathroom counter in his underwear as Felicity and Oliver cleaned the cuts on his hands. “I’m so sorry, Ollie. I’m so sorry that you didn’t think you could tell me.”

Oliver rubbed at his eyes to prevent a new round of tears from falling. The last thing he ever wanted to discuss with Tommy was suicide – it terrified him. “It’s not that I didn’t think I could tell you, I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Tommy looked at Felicity nervously before returning his attention to Oliver. “I love you for wanting to protect me - I know why you think you needed to protect me, but Ollie you hold onto too much trying to shelter the rest of us.” He pressed his hand against Oliver’s heart, “You’re not alone. Your burdens are my burdens.” He looked back at Felicity and smiled sadly, “Our burdens.”

“It was awful,” Oliver said, his voice cracking and fresh tears falling from his eyes. “After, I couldn’t throw him overboard. I couldn’t do it. I knew he was dead – that he was gone – but I didn’t want to be alone.” His tears came faster and burned his eyes. “I didn’t want to die alone.”

Tommy and Felicity’s arms wrapped around him as he wept and continued his story. “When the raft came ashore on Lian Yu, the birds were trying to get to his body. I had him wrapped in the raft’s covering, but they still tried to get at him. The smell made me retch. I had nothing left to bring up, but I couldn’t stop myself.” He held up his hands, “I dug his grave with my hands and a rock. I couldn’t dig deep enough, I was too weak – my fingers were bleeding. I put him in the grave, wrapped in nylon and covered him with dirt and stones to keep the animals away. Then Yao Fei shot me.”

Felicity’s lips pressed against the scar from Yao Fei’s arrow. Tommy lifted Oliver’s hands to his mouth and began to kiss his fingers and the palms of his hands. Oliver allowed himself to be comforted. For the first time, he thought he might actually believe that his dad’s death wasn’t his fault.

“Robert loved you and I know he would be proud of you,” Tommy said, his gaze locking with Oliver’s. “You’re making a difference with the city.” He laughed softly, “I think he’d be a little shocked that you’re CEO of QC and your mom wasn’t forced to shackle you to the desk to do it.”

Oliver laughed as he thought of how surprised his dad would be if he knew that his son had become CEO. “Yeah, he trusted me with a book of criminals to take down, but even he thought asking me to run QC was a bridge to far.”

The smile fell from Tommy’s face and his eyes glazed over. Oliver clasped Tommy’s face. “Hey, what’s going on? Where’d you go?”

Fresh tears spilled from Tommy’s eyes, “I miss him. It’s not fair that he’s not here to see how incredible you and Thea are. He’s not here with you because of me.”

“No,” Oliver said firmly. Malcolm had taken enough from them. He wasn’t going to allow Malcolm to ever take Tommy from him again. “Nothing that happened was your fault. You didn’t sink the Gambit.”

“No, I didn’t, but my dad did, and I could’ve stopped him if I hadn’t been so weak,” Tommy said.

“You were a kid – Malcolm wasn’t your responsibility. My dad was an adult. He didn’t have to agree to join Malcolm. He made his choice. We’re living with both our dads’ shitty decisions.”

Tommy nodded his head and smiled feebly, but Oliver knew that Tommy still blamed himself. Oliver recognized the signs. He wasn’t the only person capable of self-loathing, but when Tommy self-destructed from his demons, it was far more dangerous than Oliver was under his hood. “If my dad was sitting here, what would he say?”

“Boys, put some pants on,” Tommy said with a straight face.

Oliver laughed. His dad had said that to them on more than one occasion when they were growing up. There had been plenty of times Robert had found them, in their underwear, passed out on the lawn or in the living room with their classmates after a party. “After he told us to put our pants on?”

A soft smile appeared on Tommy’s lips, “He’d put his hand on our shoulders and say, son, everything will be all right. You boys are going to do great things.”

Oliver caressed Tommy’s cheek. “Look at all the great things you’re doing with the Rebecca Foundation. He’d be so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Tommy covered Oliver’s hand with his own. “He’d be so damned proud of you. I know I am.”

Oliver kissed Tommy softly. “Let’s go back to bed. The both of you need your sleep.”

Felicity and Tommy were getting into bed when Oliver remembered what had set the night’s events into motion. “Wait,” he said, his voice cracking. “We need to talk about sleeping arrangements.”

Felicity crossed her arms over her chest. “If you’re about to tell us that you’ll be sleeping elsewhere from now on, you can just forget it, mister.”

“Ollie, come to bed,” Tommy said.

“I could’ve hurt you,” Oliver said. He couldn’t bring himself to say that he’d almost killed him. He pointed at the bruises on Tommy’s throat and chest. “I did hurt you.”

“I knew better. I touched you when you were in the middle of your nightmare. I won’t do it again,” Tommy promised.

“I think Felicity should always sleep in the middle,” Oliver said.

Tommy’s eyes narrowed with confusion. “You’re afraid of hurting us, but you want Felicity to sleep next to you?”

“If I ever attack in my sleep again, you’ve got the best chance of overpowering me. I also think when I’m like that, I perceive women to be less of a threat.”

“Sexist much?” Felicity said.

“You choked your mom your first night home,” Tommy said.

“I also came out of it faster than I did tonight.” Oliver shrugged. “I pushed Felicity away earlier. I could have choked her or punched her, but I pushed her away. My subconscious doesn’t perceive her as a threat.”

“Makes sense to me,” Felicity said. “I’ll sleep in the middle.”

“No, not okay,” Tommy said.

“Tommy, you have a better chance of physically overpowering me,” Oliver tried to reason.

Tommy smiled. “Ollie, it’s really sweet you think I have a chance in hell of overpowering you, but I think the both of us know better.”

“I’ll teach you – or Dig will,” Oliver said. “Please don’t fight me on this.”

“Oliver’s right. He won’t hurt me. I know it.” Felicity took hold of Tommy’s hand. “You’re a light sleeper. If you hear Oliver having a nightmare, and you’re on the end of the bed, you can pull me out of harm’s way before he has a chance to react. If you’re in the middle, you’re stuck. What if I can’t help you next time?”

“There might not be a next time,” Tommy said.

“I don’t want to count on that,” Oliver said. “Either Felicity sleeps in the middle, or I sleep on the couch.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy asked Felicity.

“Yes,” Felicity insisted. “He won’t hurt me.”

Tommy ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a frustrated breath. “Fine, but you need to show me how to break your holds.”

“Tomorrow, after work, before the club opens,” Oliver said before Tommy could change his mind.

“Let’s go to bed.” Felicity turned off the lights, climbed into bed and laid down in the center. Oliver and Tommy joined her. The three of them lay side by side in silence, staring at the ceiling. After a few minutes, Felicity said, “This is weird.”

“I’m afraid to ask,” Tommy said into the darkness.

“We’re not touching. It’s weird,” she said.

Oliver rolled onto his side. Felicity turned, pressing her back against Oliver’s chest. Oliver reached for Tommy and rolled him onto his side to face them. Tommy tangled his legs with Oliver and Felicity.

Felicity sighed. “I like being the center of a meat sandwich. No – wait. If I’m in the center, does that make me the meat? Is it sexist if I think you guys are the meat? Is there a sandwich where the meat is on the outside and the bread is on the inside?” She groaned and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Is there a better metaphor for being in the middle – one that doesn’t involve meat?”

“You can be the center of our love sandwich,” Tommy said.

“I’m not calling it that,” Oliver said.

“Love burrito?” Tommy continued. “Love taco?”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Oliver said.

“Love cookie – no, love Oreo?” Felicity suggested. “Although, is it sexist that I think you guys should be the cream filling?”

Tommy snorted.

“I’m begging you,” Oliver said.

“I’ll think of something,” Felicity said through a yawn.

“Goodnight.” Oliver leaned over Felicity to kiss Tommy and then kissed her.

“Goodnight,” Tommy and Felicity said together.

Oliver closed his eyes and matched his breathing to Felicity’s. He felt safe and at peace with Felicity in his arms and Tommy holding his hand. He was determined to not let the darkness of his past interfere with the hope he had for his future. He wasn’t sure how he was going to do it or how long it would take, but with Felicity and Tommy by his side he knew it was finally possible.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading. Your kudos and comments are what keep me writing and are always appreciated.
> 
> I've been working on this update for months. In a strange coincidence, this week's show was on this very topic.
> 
> You can also come say hi to me on tumblr. I'm always happy to answer questions about this verse or anything else Arrow. http://realityisoverrated-fic.tumblr.com


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